Secrets And Scars
by KeatsLove
Summary: Esme must deal with memories of her past, her new life as a vampire, getting to know adopted son Edward, and her attraction to Carlisle.
1. Chapter 1

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 1

I can hear them talking but it sounds a long way off – as if I'm trying to listen to a conversation through a glass pressed against a door. I open my eyes but everything looks blurry and out of focus. _Where am I_? I try to think back, to remember, but it all seems so dim as if it is a life belonging to someone else. The only thing vivid I recall is Dr. Cullen's face as he leaned over me, brushed back my hair, and whispered "everything will be alright. I promise."

I lick my cracked lips and try to call out. My voice comes out raspy. It will be a wonder if I'm heard at all. "Dr. Cullen?"

"Miss Platt?" He is at my side instantly. "How are you feeling?"

I try to sit up, but he pushes me gently back onto the bed I'm laying on.

"Please, conserve your strength, Miss Platt."

"Mrs... Mrs Evenson," I correct, though Charles seems a part of that dim former existence more than anything else I can hazily recall. "I got married. I didn't...I didn't want to but it... the idea of it made my parents so happy but I... I...I --"

I stop myself from saying _but I wanted to wait for you_. Though it is the truth, someone as successful and beautiful as Dr. Cullen doesn't need to be made aware of a school girl crush that turned into a young woman's one hope and fantasy. I say "beautiful" instead of "handsome" because Dr. Cullen's face is too perfect to be called handsome. He is beautiful. I have always thought so.

"Ten years and you haven't changed a bit," I croak out through my cracked, dry lips. "How can that.. How can that be?"

"A vegetarian lifestyle," he says. "It's all the rage in Europe." He touches my cheek briefly with his cold, pale hand, as if he doesn't want to but can't help himself in the end. "Tell me, Miss Platt, what do you remember from the past week or more?"

I like that he doesn't use my married name. I'd prefer to forget Charles existence myself. "I..." I shake my head, confused, trying to remember. "It is hazy but what I do remember is pain. White, hot, searing pain as if my body was revolting against some toxin."

"And before that?"

"William. My dear, sweet little William sick with the whooping cough." I close my eyes tight and attempt to pull up a memory of his sweet, little, innocent face. I refuse to lose him to the dim half-life memories. "The doctors said there was nothing they could do so I brought him home. He died in my arms and I... I wanted to die too." A memory of the cliff over looking Milwaukee Bay comes to mind. I narrow my eyes at Dr. Cullen. "I could never have survived the fall."

"You did," he assures me, "but only just. They had already placed you in the morgue when I found you."

"Then why aren't I in the ground with William?"

"Because I recognized you as that brave school girl in braids from ten years ago that didn't even flinch when I reset her broken leg and I...Forgive me, I was weak, and I...I did not want to see the brave, vibrant girl I knew suffer any longer so I --"

"He turned you," a new voice says as a boy comes into view. He possesses the same pale, statue-like beauty of Dr. Cullen but his hair is tawny compared to the doctor's pale blond. The boy watches me hostilely before I look to Dr. Cullen to clarify.

"What does he mean 'turned' me?" I ask.

"We're not dead, we're undead," the boy says before he can answer.

"Dr. Cullen?" I open my eyes wide and silently beg for an answer.

He turns away, unwilling to look at me as he confirms the boys harsh words. "Forgive me, Miss Platt, but Edward is right. We are vampires and now... now you are one too."


	2. Chapter 2

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 2

_Vampires._ The word rings in my mind like a sick, macabre joke. I remember going to the cinema in Columbus with Charles to see _The Vampire_ when I was eighteen. It was the first time we had been alone together without a chaperone and he took advantage of the situation. I shake my head to clear the memory of his hands pawing at me and calling me a 'prude' for asking him to stop. He took far too much advantage of the situation.

"I had wished to soften the blow, Edward," Dr. Cullen says sternly to the boy. "Being turned is not something to be taken lightly." He perches on the edge of the bed before his hand covers mine where it rests above the blanket. "Forgive him, Miss Platt, Edward believes I turned you for selfish reasons."

_Vampires._

Dr. Cullen widens his golden eyes at me as if silently begging for me to believe them. To believe him. "There is so much to explain to you, Miss Platt."

"Esme," I correct. If possible, his eyes grow even widen. "Please, call me Esme."

"Esme." Dr. Cullen whispers my name, as if savoring the sound. A simple word has never sounded sweeter on anyone's lips. "Then you must call me Carlisle. Please, I insist," he adds when I open my mouth to protest. He motions at the tawny haired boy still lingering next to the bed. "And this is Edward. Edward, I'd like you to meet Esme Platt."

"Pleased to meet you." Edward's good manners seem to take over for his previous rudeness. "Carlisle has told me quite a bit about you."

"You... You have?" I ask.

Dr. Cullen – Carlisle – looks away. "I... I may have mentioned that we met previously."

"I seem to remember something about her hair being like spun caramel and eyes bluer than the sky." Edward's grin widens as Carlisle's discomfort grows. I think I may like this boy after all. "And what did you say the night we left Columbus?" he asks. "Something about wishing we could stay forever so you would always be --"

"That's quite enough, Edward," Carlisle interrupts.

"Actually, I'm quite enjoying it," I say. I smile at Edward and he returns the gesture. Now, I know we will be friends. "Go on, Edward."

"I think Esme needs her rest." Carlisle puts an end to any discussion about my hair and eyes by standing up and ushering Edward toward the door. "You won't require sleep now, but please try to rest. The transformation is difficult on everyone. I promise to answer any questions you may have shortly."

"Vampires," I whisper once they've left me alone. I test the word out again. "Vampires."

If even half the myths were true, would it really be such a bad thing?


	3. Chapter 3

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 3

Once the door clicks shut, I sit up fully in bed. How can I possibly rest when there is so much to think about? There's a mirror here – wherever here is – and I stand to make my way toward it. I walk slowly, hesitantly, as if my body remembers being bruised and battered on the rocks of Milwaukee Bay and is resisting my insistence of movement. What I know of vampires, I learned from reading Bram Stoker's _Dracula _and watching that horrid movie with Charles. If what Edward and Dr. Cullen – Carlisle – say is true, then I shouldn't cast a reflection.

My own face stares back at me from the mirror. It's me, yet it's not me. It's an enhanced me. My skin is as alabaster as the two men whose voices I can hear murmuring in the next room. My hair, still the same caramel color that Carlisle remembered so well, has a luster and sheen that it never possessed in life. My eyes...My eyes are where the main difference lies. I lean closer to make sure what I see occurring is not a trick of the dim light. Red is slowly spreading from my irises like spiders spinning a web and enveloping the bright blue I normally see reflected back at me from a mirror.

"Dr. Cullen!" I call, worried that the red may mean something has gone horribly wrong in this transformation he spoke of. "Dr. Cullen!"

He is at my side faster than humanly – or un-humanly – possible. "Esme, I though we agreed you would rest." He gently take my hands and attempts to steer me toward the bed. "And, please, remember to call me Carlisle. It makes me feel much older than I am when you call me 'Dr. Cullen.'"

"How old are you?" I ask.

He smiles sadly. "That is a story I will save for a later time."

"My eyes," I remember my initial concern. "Why are my eyes turning red? Yours are golden. Why aren't mine that color? Has something gone... Has something gone wrong?"

Dr. Cullen – Carlisle – forces me to sit on the bed. I grab for him, afraid he will leave me. "Don't go."

"You need your rest."

"Please, stay," I try again. "I have so many questions. Please...Carlisle." I remember to use his name this time and it seems to make all the difference.

Carlisle smiles that same sad, world-weary smile of his and I realize instinctively how lonely he must be.

"You want companionship," I say slowly, as if testing the words. "That's why you turned Edward and now me. You're lonely."

"I turned Edward because his mother wished it," he says. "I turned you because I --" He stops suddenly and shakes his head – unwilling to continue.

"You turned me because you wished it," I finish for him.

"I was weak, forgive me."

"You were lonely." I stand and place my hand against his cold cheek. "Don't apologize for being lonely, Carlisle. I'm lonely too."

"Your eyes are red to signify that you are newly turned," Carlisle answers my original reason for calling him in here from the other room. "In time, they will turn golden like Edward and I's. When I said we were vegetarians, it is true. We only consume animal blood." He smiles – a sheepish, boyish smile instead of the world weary one. I like it much better. "It makes us a bit like outcasts in the vampire world, but we would rather live this way than follow the more traditional path."

"A sensible notion," I agree. I can't resist rubbing my fingers against his cheek. Carlisle looks away but whether it's out of embarrassment or something else, I cannot say. "Since you are able to work in hospitals during the day, I assume _Dracula_ is a nice guideline but not altogether accurate?"

Carlisle laughs. I like it even better than his smile. "Bram Stoker. An excellent book, but more fantastical than fact."

"What is the truth?"

He removes my hand from his cheek and kisses it quickly – as if he cannot help himself – before gently guiding me back to the bed. "Rest first. I promise to explain all after you rest." Carlisle lingers, looking as if he wants to say more, before finally giving in to the desire and speaking. "Are you happy with the transformation?" he asks. "Are you angry with me for robbing you of your desire to die along side your son?"

What would he say if I told him of my much longer ten year desire to be with him? If I said that, after my marriage, the only thing which made life even remotely bearable were memories of him? Angry? How could I be angry when thoughts of him were the only thing keeping me sane through Charles's lewd acts and drunken fists? I could never be angry with Carlisle Cullen.

"No, I'm not angry," I finally say. "You saved me. Sometimes what we think we want at the time, is really not what is best for us. Maybe this new life is what's best for me." I smile at him to show I'm sincere. "I'm not angry, Carlisle."

"Are you happy?" he asks again.

"I'm happy to be with you," I admit.

Carlisle is at the door before he says: "I'm glad."


	4. Chapter 4

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 4

Edward is alone when I enter the living area from the bedroom.

"Where's Carlisle?" I am finally starting to become accustomed to calling and thinking of him in this new way instead of the "Dr. Cullen" from my girlhood fantasies. An afternoon of resting without the ability or need to sleep will do that.

"It was time for his shift at the hospital," Edward says. He motions at an envelope laying on the low coffee table. "He wrote you a letter. I told him I could just tell you whatever it was he felt the need to write down, but he wrote it anyway." He shrugs. "Maybe it's personal."

I pick up the letter, curious to its contents, but wanting to get to know Edward better. "Thank you. I'll read it later."

Now that I'm in the living area, I realize this is an apartment. It's wide open – like a loft – with minimal furniture and two doors leading off to the right.

"Have I taken over your bedroom?" I ask.

Edward laughs. "You've taken over Carlisle's bedroom. It's nice to have personal space and the familiar comforts of home, even if certain aspects of life have changed with the transformation."

"How do you like it?" I ask as conversationally as if asking someone what they thought of a new hat.

Edward shrugs. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. Still, growing up, I didn't think 'I want to be a vampire some day.'"

I move over to the window and flick back the curtain to reveal downtown Milwaukee below us. We must be in an apartment above one of the shops. I watch the hustle and bustle of the city, wondering if becoming a Vampire means I'll never be a part of that world again. Still, Carlisle and Edward obviously interact with the rest of the world. They don't lock themselves up in some dank crypt only to come out at night like in books and movies. Maybe my new life wouldn't be so very different from my old life after all.

"What did you want to be?" I finally ask.

"A soldier," he says. "I wanted to fight in the war, but The Influenza stopped that. The Influenza stopped everything."

"My husband fought in the war," I say. "Unfortunately, he survived."

"What's so unfortunate about that?" Edward asks.

"If you knew Charles, you wouldn't need to ask that question." I walk slowly across the room, as if still testing the strength of my newly healed legs, and sit next to Edward on the couch. "But William, my sweet little William, didn't deserve a life such as that. William saved me just as much as Carlisle saved me. If I never became pregnant, I never would have left Charles." I close my eyes and recall William's cherubic face. "He was so sweet – always smiling and gurgling and so interested in the world around him. He had blue eyes – like me – but his hair was black like his father's. I never imagined something so good could come out of something so bad."

"I'm sorry for you loss," Edward says sincerely. "I know I can never replace your son, and you probably never expected to wake up one day with a seventeen-year-old stranger in need of a mother, but I've lost both my parents. Carlisle has been an excellent father-figure but I miss having a mother. Do you think you...Do you think you could ever think of me as an adopted son?"

I reach out and squeeze Edward's hand to show my support of the idea. "I would be honored, Edward."

"Carlisle really did talk about you before he, uh, brought you home from the hospital," Edward says as if reading my mind. "I lived in Chicago but, once I had adjusted to the change, we almost immediately moved to Columbus. Carlisle mentioned it holding fond memories for him. I eventually got the story of you out of him and then – six months ago – we moved here to Milwaukee."

"That's when I moved here," I say.

"Interesting."

"Do you really think he turned me for selfish reasons?" I ask.

Edward shrugs. "Carlisle is the most selfless person I have ever met. He gives so much to others, he has a right to think of himself every once-in-awhile. Whether he chooses to admit it or not, I know if it had been anyone else laying on that table in the morgue, he wouldn't have done what he did. Interperate that as you will." He nods toward the letter still in my hand. "Maybe his letter will tell you more."

The letter. How could I forget the letter?

"Do you mind if I excuse myself to read this, Edward?"

"By all means. Be my guest, Esme."

Esme. It doesn't have quite the same warmth as being called 'Mother', but it is still nice to be needed.

"I promise we'll talk later," I say before disappearing into the bedroom that Carlisle gave up for me.


	5. Chapter 5

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 5

Now that I know it is Carlisle's room I am occupying instead of Edward's, I take the time to examine it in the hopes of finding out more about the good doctor. There are only four pieces of furniture in the entire room – a bed, an antique dresser and mirror set, a desk, and a bookcase lined with neatly arranged books. He's even taken the time to alphabetize them.

"Well, if you live forever..."

I run my finger across the leather bond spines. They are mostly medical books but there are a few I would consider "classics" though Carlisle may have been alive when they were first published. A large family bible tucked behind a 1st edition of _Gray's Anatomy _catches my eye and I pull it out in order to take it to the bed to look through. It is hand written in Latin – much like the Illuminated Texts the monks labored over – and the first page chronicles the Cullen births, deaths, and marriages from 1350 onward. I almost put it back where I found it – worried about damaging such a precious family heirloom – but my curiosity gets the better of me and I scan the entries till I find Carlisle's name.

_Carlisle Cullen b. 1642_

That's where the entries end.

"1642." I trace the delicate page with one finger. "He's lived nearly 280 years."

I suddenly remember the unread letter he left before leaving for the hospital so gently set the bible aside in order to read it instead. Carlisle's handwriting is as precise and ornate as the handwriting in the bible. It's nearly a work of art in itself.

_My Dearest Esme,_

_I have lived for others for so long, I have forgotten what it is like to live for myself. Even in my now long ago human existence, I was always the dutiful son following his minister father's wishes and ambitions. I rarely thought of my own needs and desires and, when I did, my father was quick to remind me of how selfishness is a sin. He wished to rid the world of sin and evil and – to this end – we hunted the creatures that have now passed into myth. One mythical creature I discovered to be very much real and not some poor soul swept up in the mass hysteria and frenzy is the Vampire. In discovering a real Coven of Vampires, I changed the course of my existence. I cannot find the words to express how often I cursed my fate but, in time, I came to realize how much good I could do with the eternity given to me. So many truly great and compassionate individuals are only given a handful of years to truly devote themselves to helping others. I have been given forever. That is not to say vampires cannot be killed – we can – but it is a rather tricky process and I do not wish to discuss the details in a letter. What I wish to discuss is my earlier statement. The truth is, Edward is right. I have been selfish. I have been selfish in thinking no one but I could notice your infinite goodness and light. After our first meeting, I lingered in Ohio with the hope of seeing you again and becoming acquainted with the living, breathing girl you were instead of the paragon my mind had made you out to be. When I read of your marriage, I retreated to Chicago where I treated Edward during the influenza outbreak. I hoped a companion would fill the void that the knowledge of your loss created and – for a time – it did. I was able to become, not just a doctor, but a teacher. I taught Edward of the vampire lifestyle and he repaid me by becoming a devoted adopted son. Yet, despite this new direction my life had taken, thoughts of the brave girl from Ohio invaded nearly every spare moment. I relocated us to Cincinnati and then – as if guided by an unseen force – to Milwaukee. When I discovered you in the hospital last week, I knew why. Fate, which I had long ago cursed for my vampire existence, had finally decided to smile down upon me. I could save you and – in doing so – I could become acquainted with, not only the school girl you were, but the woman you have become. I hope you will forgive me for being selfish, Esme. I did think of myself, but I also thought of the wonders someone with your goodness could accomplish if given a second chance. You now have that chance and I – in my selfishness – thank fate for that._

_I remain always your –_

_Carlisle Cullen_


	6. Chapter 6

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 6

A knock sounds, and I quickly hide Carlisle's letter under a pillow. It will not do to be caught reading and rereading it like a love struck school girl.

"Come in," I call.

Carlisle enters. "I promised to work a double shift tomorrow, if they let me go early today." He lingers, hand on the door knob, as if unsure of what to do or say next, before motioning at the empty space next to me on the bed. "May I?"

"By all means."

He sits, deciding the best place for his hands are in his lap. Pity. I don't think I will ever forget how it feels to have those hands hold mine.

"Have you read the letter?"

"Yes. Edward was kind enough to pass it on."

"Sometimes I find certain things are easier to say in a letter." Carlisle's fingers twitch, as if he wants to reach for my hand, but—in the end – manages to restrain himself. "I hope you don't mind."

"It was a beautiful letter, Carlisle," I say. "I'm _glad_ you wrote it down because then I can have it with me always. If you just told it to me, then I'd only have my memories to go off of and those seem so muddled up and hazy right now, I would worry about forgetting your beautiful words."

"Only memories of your human life will grow hazy," he says. "Today marks the beginning of your second chance – your second life – and you can do with it whatever you may desire." He suddenly notices the family bible I forgot to return to the bookshelf and pulls it to his lap. "Did you...Did you read through this?"

"Only the family history."

Carlisle opens the bible almost reverently and traces the names of his ancestors with his fingers as if reading braille. "One of my many regrets is that I shall never add my own entries to the family story."

"Why can't you?" I ask.

He motions at the page that ends with _Carlisle Cullen b. 1642. _"I shall never die or have children. Without a family, there is no story to tell."

"There is always a story to tell," I insist. I stand and rummage in his desk drawers before returning to the bed with a ball point pen in hand. "Edward and I are your family," I say. "You can record us in your bible."

Carlisle takes the pen from my hand and slowly writes _Edward Anthony Masen Cullen b. 1901. _

"Can we...Can we include William?" I ask. "William Johnathan Platt. Born 1921 and...died...1921."

Carlisle surprises me by writing _William Johnathan Platt Cullen b. 1921 d. 1921 _ under Edward's entry. By giving William the Cullen name, he has made us all a family. "If I had known your infant was ill, I would have done everything in my power to save him, Esme.."

"I know you would have, Carlisle," I whisper. "Thank you." I place my finger next to his above Edward's entry. "You haven't left enough space for me. Esme Anne Platt born 1895."

"I have a special space in mind for you," Carlisle says.

Considering the riot of emotions ricocheting inside, I am surprised I manage to actually sound casual when asking: "Oh, really? Where?"

He moves the pen next to _Carlisle Cullen b. 1642_ and completes the entry by writing _m. __Esme Anne Platt (b. 1895). _

Carlisle's eyes are round and pleading, making his beautiful face look oh so boyish, when he finally gains the courage to look up at me. "That is, if you will have me," he clarifies. "I don't expect a ceremony tomorrow, but in time, once we know each other for who we are instead of what we wish the other to be. Those are my intentions. Do you think... Do you think you could ever agree to have me in time, Esme?"

I place a hand on either side of his face before slanting a kiss across his lips. "Carlisle Cullen, in this whole, wide, entire world, in any place or time, there is no one I have ever wanted _but_ you."

His whole body relaxes as if he has steeled himself for rejection but a much happier emotion washes over him instead at my declaration. "Oh, Esme, if only you knew how often I have wished you to say that. I've spent years imagining this very exact moment."

"Now you can have years of living this very exact moment instead of imagining it," I say. I explore his face with my fingertips, learning every curve and hollow. Carlisle lifts his hands to do the same with my face, first tentatively then quickly growing bolder, as he expands the exploration area to my hair, neck, arms, hands, and even all the way down to my fingertips. My breath hisses through my teeth as he retraces the path of his fingers with his lips.

"Tell me again," he whispers close to my ear while he places a row of kisses from my ear lobe to the base of my neck. "Tell me again, Esme."

"You are all I've ever wanted," I repeat since he asked and it feels liberating to finally get the words out that have been trapped inside of me for ten long years. "You are all I've ever wanted, Carlisle."

He lifts his head, smile tremulous with emotion. "Words cannot express how hearing you say that makes me feel."

"You can...You can try to tell me without words," I offer.

Carlisle laughs. "I shall have to take you up on that offer."


	7. Chapter 7

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 7

Kissing Carlisle Cullen is infinitely more satisfying than any fantasy I could ever concoct in those far away girlhood daydreams or, more recently, the private horror of my marriage. His lips are soft and his hands chastely cup my face – unlike Charles who took every opportunity presented to him to paw at me with his wicked hands and laugh over my protests. Carlisle Cullen is worth a million Charles Evensons.

_Charles._

Unbidden, a memory of my last night in Columbus comes to mind as crisp and clear as if it were happening now.

_Charles closes the front door behind him. He smells like cheap scotch and even cheaper perfume. _

_"Did you have a good time?" I ask because – despite everything – I still remember the lessons my mother taught me about being a good wife. One of the rules is 'always be polite when your husband comes home after a long day.' Charles is the last person who deserves a good wife, but I have tried for three years because that's what is expected of me – just like marrying him was what was expected of me. I have become a master of fulfilling everyone else's expectations but my own._

_"Not that you care, but yeah, it was swell." He strips down to only his suspenders and trousers right there in the middle of the foyer. _

_"Of course I care,Charles. How can you say something like that?" I'm used to saying those words around the cold lump of nothing I feel in my heart. "How was your day?"_

_"S'okay." He moves across the foyer to where I'm knitting in the living room rocking chair. He runs a hand down my cheek and it takes everything in my power not to shudder at his __touch. "It will be better once I get my little Ice Queen wife to thaw out."_

_"I'm... I'm not feeling well tonight." I hope for once it will do the trick and he'll leave me be, but the challenge only makes Charles more determined._

_"I got some medicine right here for you but ya gotta swallow an' not spit, got it?"_

_"I... I don't feel well," I repeat. _

_"I already told you I got the cure for that." Charles hauls me to my feet and half carries, half drags me to the bedroom. "No screamin' tonight, got it, or I'll stuff a sock in your mouth."_

_I save my screaming for my mind._

_Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me –_

"Don't touch me!" I scream out loud. "Don't touch me, Charles! Don't you dare touch me!"

"Esme?"

Carlisle Cullen's shocked face slowly comes into focus. I raise a shaking hand to my mouth, realizing that I'm free. I'm free. Charles is part of my old life, and this is my new. "Carlisle, I'm sorry," I say. "Charles was my husband. He was --"

"Was he unkind to you?" Carlisle interrupts.

I almost laugh. Unkind? That's the understatement of the year. "He was who he was and now I am free of him." I lay a hand against his pale cheek. "And you are who you are and I thank you for that."

"Was he unkind to you?" Carlisle repeats.

"Please --" I shake my head, unwilling to let my secrets go. "It's done. I'm free of him. I'm here now, with you, and I _want _to be here," I assure him. "Please, Charles is in the past. Let's leave him in the past."

"I will never hurt you or be unkind," Carlisle declares, voice low and serious. "I promise you, Esme."

My smile is shaky as I say "I trust you, Carlisle."

I glance at the still open bedroom door, wondering what Edward must think. One minute, there's the only the silent sounds of kisses, the next I'm screaming as if being attacked. I may be physically free of Charles, but how long will the nightmares haunt me?


	8. Chapter 8

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 8

The next day, Carlisle seems reluctant to leave for his double shift at the hospital. He winds and unwinds his scarf at least twenty times as he stands near the doorway, eyes unfocused, and thoughts, I hope, on me.

"We'll be fine," Edward assures him. "I'll even take Esme to wherever she was living before so she can retrieve her things." He turns toward me with wide, golden eyes. "Wouldn't it be nice to have your own things again?"

"Very nice," I agree. I tug at the skirt of the dress I'm wearing. "Whoever picked this out has impeccable taste, but it needs to be washed and I have no other clothing here."

"I picked it out," Carlisle says, voice as distant as his expression. "I...Forgive me, Esme, I should have offered to retrieve your things for you sooner. How remiss of me."

"That's why Esme and I can do it today," Edward insists. "It's overcast – perfect weather—and I promise to be careful. No one will suspect a thing."

"If the sun comes out, stay in the shadows," Carlisle warns.

"Of course."

"Carlisle!" I follow him into the hallway when he leaves the loft. "Carlisle, what's wrong? You seem...troubled."

He wheels on his heel to face me, hands reaching for both of mine. "We may need to move on soon. We cannot stay for long in a place where a Jane Doe fitting your description mysteriously disappears from the morgue. You have a life here, Esme, with duties and responsibilities and it did not include Edward and I until a week ago. When you fail to appear to fulfill these duties, someone somewhere will grow suspicious and if even one person remembers seeing me spiriting you out of the hospital, or one person remembers it was you who leaped from the cliff and not a look-alike, then we have trouble. Trust me, Esme, I have been chased by enough angry mobs in my lifetime to know that trouble is the last thing we want to bring down upon us here in Milwaukee."

"Where would we go?" I ask.

"Wherever there is a hospital in need of a doctor and the weather is not overly sunny," Carlisle says. He leans close to kiss the center of my forehead. "Shall I let you decide? It is the least I can do considering it was my selfishness that dragged you into this from your previous life."

"What life?" I shudder at the thought of how hopeless everything seemed to me after William's death. "I had no life till you found me. _This _is my life now. _This_ is what I choose. To be with you forever, Carlisle, there is no better life for me but to be with you."

"Sweet words." Carlisle's lips graze mine in a soft kiss. "Promise me that you will be careful today. Spend as little time as possible in your flat. Only collect what you feel you need and go. We cannot risk anyone you may know seeing you and putting two and two together."

"I promise."

I tip-toe and wrap my arms around his neck when Carlisle leans down to kiss me again. I could spend forever in this hallway and be perfectly content. I hear a sound – as if someone is clearing their throat – but it seems a long way off and unimportant compared to the wonder of being wrapped in Carlisle Cullen's arms.

"Alright, since clearing my throat obviously isn't getting a response, I'll remind you that people will wonder if you're late, Carlisle," Edward says.

We jump apart like guilty teenagers caught on the front porch after a date which only makes Edward chuckle all the more.

"Are you ready to go, Esme?" Edward asks innocently, though his dancing eyes tell a far less innocent story.

"Of course, Edward, thank you for offering to take me to my apartment," I say politely before tip-toeing to whisper into Carlisle's ear: "Have a good day. I'll miss you while you're away."

"My day will be even better when I am home again with you," he promises before turning on his heel and disappearing down the stairs and into the overcast Wisconsin morning.


	9. Chapter 9

SECRETS AND SCARS

*corrected from a previous draft*

CHAPTER 9

"Why is Carlisle always so concerned about the sunlight?" I ask Edward as we stand in the now deserted hallway. "Does it hurt you like in _Dracula_?"

Edward laughs and motions me back inside the loft so we do not run the risk of anyone overhearing. "There's no bursting into flames, I promise, but exposure to the sun does draw unwanted attention to us."

"What's more attention grabbing than flames?" I ask. "If I saw someone spontaneously combust, I would notice."

He taps his arm. "We sparkle, and I don't mean from our winning personalities. Our skin sparkles as if it's set with diamonds. That's why we stay out of the sun. It doesn't hurt, but it does draw unwanted attention to us. When you're trying to fit in and act normal, the last thing in the world you want is unwanted attention." He frowns, as if suddenly remembering something he shouldn't have forgotten. "About the taking you with to retrieve your things, Esme....Uh, on second thought, I should go alone."

"Why?"

He waves a hand helplessly. "You're too new. It would be a disaster if I took you outside. The smell of blood would drive you crazy with hunger until you couldn't resist feeding and I'm not going to be responsible for explaining to Carlisle why I forgot that rule. I shouldn't have even mentioned it in the first place. I just...I guess I forgot what it was like to be new. It's been three years since I was turned and, if you think your old life is fading already, wait three years. It's hard to remember anything _but _this life."

"I'll...I'll write down directions, where to find the key, and what I wish to keep then," I accept his decision. I should have known that I couldn't continue on as before. I accepted this new life blindly and there is so very much to learn. For one, I don't know where the loft is located so I cannot give proper directions to my empty apartment.

"Edward? Do you know where Bay Street is from here?"

"By the old flour mill?" he asks.

I nod. "Exactly. They converted the old flour mill into apartments. Mine is 104. The key is under the potted violets on the front stoop. I wrote a list of the things I wish to keep. There's a suitcase in the closet."

He scans the list. "Clothes, William's baby blanket, framed picture on night stand. Got it. I'll be quick, Esme. You won't be alone for long." Edward frowns, as if remembering his own time as a new vampire. "I...I know how it can be when there is nothing to do but think."

"Be careful," I say, remembering Carlisle's earlier caution in the hallway.

"Don't worry," Edward assures me. "I always am."


	10. Chapter 10

SECRETS AND SCARS

*updated/revision for previous draft*

CHAPTER 10

After the door closes behind Edward, I do the only thing I can do – I sit down to wait. At first, this life seemed like such an adventure. I didn't care what I had to sacrifice if it meant being with Carlisle Cullen forever. I can accept their diet of animal blood. I can accept not needing to sleep. I can accept only breathing by habit instead of need. I can accept that now, when people looked at me, they would see an enhanced me with perfect hair and skin and eyes that would turn from red to gold. But can I accept that I now may pose a threat to humans? How strange to think of them as 'humans' now that I am no longer one of them. I could hurt someone. This life isn't a game or an adventure. It is a constant struggle for control. Can I accept that?

I close my eyes and remember the day that brought me to this new life.

_The note is easy to write. By the time Mom and Dad get it, it will all be over._

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I love you. I miss you. Do not send anyone to look for me. By the time you read this, I will be gone. Don't worry. I'll pin a note inside my dress so they know where to send the body. I did my best to be a good daughter. I'm sorry that it wasn't enough for you._

_Esme_

_I carefully copy my parents' address on a slip of paper and pin it to the inside of my dress. The place I have in mind has just rocks below – no water – so there is no chance of the address smudging. I take one last look around my tiny apartment, lingering on William's empty cradle, before leaving. I hide the key under my potted violets by the front door. I do not expect to be back, but this will make it easier for the police to send my belongings to my parents. I half expect my neighbor Sylvia Potts to be hovering near her door to hand me a casserole because of "my loss" or gossip about what Mr. Hearthford in 204 did last week, but, thankfully, I am alone. I won't be alone for long. Soon I'll be with William. _

"Did you miss me?"

Edward's return jolts me out of my thoughts.

"I'll just set this down in your room." He carries the suitcase to my bedroom before returning to where I'm still waiting in the living room. "Who's Sylvia Potts?" he asks. "She gave me a casserole and asked where you were. I told her I was your brother."

"Sylvia lives for gossip," I say. "And I told her when I moved here that all my family is dead."

Edward frowns. "We may have a problem then."

"What do we do if she suspects something?" I ask.

"Carlisle will know what to do," Edward says. "Carlisle always knows what to do."


	11. Chapter 11

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 11

Carlisle is whistling as his key turns in the lock. I recognize it as the old Stephen Foster song _I Dream Of Jeanie With The Light Brown Hair_.

Edward and I both look at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Does he do that often?" I whisper as if Carlisle can hear us through the thick door.

"Never," Edward says.

There's a grin to go along with the whistling as Carlisle opens the door.

"Did you have a good day?" I ask.

Having the question spill out is a force of habit from years of asking Charles the same question when he returned from work while secretly hoping he would have an accident at the plant and never come home which would make _my_ day very good. I never told my parents my innermost thoughts because wishing your husband dead – a husband they picked out for you – is not something parents can easily understand. Just like my running away from what they deemed a "perfectly good and acceptable match" is not something they can easily understand.

"I hope you had a good day," I add because Carlisle is as far from Charles Evenson as any one person can get. More than anything in the world, I want to see him happy.

"It was very good, thank you," Carlisle says. "Did Edward find all that you wished to keep from your flat?"

"I did but we may have a problem with that," Edward says.

Carlisle looks from one of us to the other. "What sort of problem?"

"I told Esme's neighbor that I was her brother...A brother she doesn't have."

"Sylvia lives for gossip and loves solving what she considers 'mysteries,'" I add. "I've been careful since moving here – I haven't used my real name or told anyone the truth – but I know my parents and Charles are looking for me and it wouldn't take _much_ searching on Sylvia's part to realize the Anne Cullen she knows is really the Esme Anne Evenson that is missing from Ohio or --"

"You have been using the name Cullen?" Carlisle catches the information I let slip past in the hopes he wouldn't notice and think me terribly foolish. "Whatever for?"

"I needed a new identity." I say. "I wanted to be happy and...thoughts of you have always made me happy so I...I chose your name."

"Thoughts of me always made you happy?" he asks. "Even when you were married?"

Edward starting to laugh in amusement next to me does not make it any easier to answer Carlisle's question. "Especially when I was married," I admit. "Charles is not...Let's just say Charles will never win any Husband Of The Year awards."

"As entertaining as the whole You Like Her And She Likes You And Always Has scene is, we have a bigger problem to worry about," Edward reminds us. "Should we hope Esme's neighbor doesn't figure things out, or just get out while the getting is good?"

Carlisle frowns, expression distant as he unwinds his scarf. He hangs it on the coat rack and slowly crossing the room with that same distant, thoughtful expression on his face before sitting next to me. "We go. All it would take is a handful of very well placed questions for your neighbor to not only connect you to the body that disappeared from the morgue, but also as the missing girl from Ohio. It is no secret that I work at the hospital and previously worked at the one in Columbus around the time of your disappearance. With you using the Cullen name, it would be easy for people – especially your parents or husband – to infer that we ran off together."

"Technically, you're planning to run off together now so it's the truth," Edward points out. "No one is going to care whether it's today or six months ago. It still will be considered a scandal and that's not really keeping with our low profile stance, Carlisle."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I have caused you so much trouble in such a short amount of time. I can...I can go home if you like. I should have known I couldn't run forever."

"_We_ are your home now," Carlisle answers emphatically. "You go where we go, Esme."

"But where can we go?" I ask. "My parents have a determination to bring me home that simply moving somewhere new will not stop. If it was that easy, we would not be needing to have this discussion right now."

"We could always convince them that you are dead," Edward suggests. "That would stop them from looking for you, right?"

"But Sylvia saw --" My eyes widen as all my fears and desperation dissolve into hope. "Sylvia saw you, not me," I finish excitedly. "For all anyone knows, I _am_ dead." I reach for Carlisle's hands and squeeze them tightly as a plan lays out in my mind like puzzle pieces falling into place. "Before I jumped, I pinned a note to the inside of my dress with my parents' address so whoever found me would know where to send my body. I sent them a letter last week telling them of my plan."

"All corpses are photographed for identification purposes," Carlisle catches on. "When I go to the hospital tomorrow, I can say I read a newspaper article about your disappearance and believe the description matches our Jane Doe. They will go through your affects and find the address which will confirm your identity."

"The hospital will notify my parents, who will come out to identify me as the Jane Doe by the pictures and – once I'm dead to them – I'm free forever."

"But there's still no body," Edward points out the one flaw of the plan. "Don't you think they would insist on seeing your body?"

"All Jane and John Does are buried in the pauper cemetery a week after death," Carlisle says. "Esme's parents can request a proper headstone, but I hope would not go so far as to wish the body to be exhumed."

"The pictures, my dress, and the note should be enough," I say. "We can hope so, at least."

"So where are we moving to?" Edward asks.

"It is Esme's pick." Carlisle squeezes my hands since he has not let go of them yet. "We can go wherever you wish, Esme. The sky's the limit."

"New York." I remember the time my parents took me to the 'City That Never Sleeps' when I was young and how in awe I was of all the lights, sounds, and activity. "I want to go to New York."


	12. Chapter 12

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 12

"One good thing I always found about the inability to sleep is it allowed me to read more."

I look up from _This Side Of Paradise_ as Carlisle sits next to me on the living room sofa. Edward – excited when it dawned gloomy and cloudy – has been "out" all day. "What do you like to read?" I ask.

"Mostly medical books, but I do enjoy the occasional novel." He taps the cover of my book. "Fitzgerald is quite interesting."

"I was reading in the tree I fell out of the day we met," I confide. "I climbed up there with a book to escape my parents. They put on a good show in public, but were always bickering in private. That day, it was whether or not my indifference toward Charles would hurt my changes of a marriage proposal later. Obviously it didn't since Charles was as much into an outward appearance of perfection as my parents were but – at the time – me _not_ receiving a future proposal from Charles seemed like the end of the world to my mother. My father said Charles was not the only suitable bachelor in town." I shake my head. "The constant back and forth seemed endless, so I left. No one thought to look for me all day. I fell when I was climbing down and you know the rest."

"I was amazed that you managed to stay so calm and collected," Carlisle remembers with me. "Most in your situation would be screaming for morphine, but you just focused on answering my questions. Your bravery was amazing."

I laugh ruefully at memories of my sixteen year old self trying to be 'brave' following my first glimpse of Dr. Carlisle Cullen. "I wasn't really _that_ brave. I though I must seem childish to you with my braids and pinafore so hoped to make up for it by acting mature." I search his beautiful face as I did back then, hoping to see comfort and understanding, but finding so much more. Compassion, comfort, understanding, a hint of regret, and a new emotion that he did not let show ten years ago. Love. I lay a hand against Carlisle's smooth cheek before leaning in for a quick kiss. "If I was really as brave as all that, I would have run off a long time ago."

"And if _I_ were really as brave as all that, I would not have relied so heavily on fate but instead found you and asked you to run off a long time ago." Carlisle returns my kiss with one of his own.

"Carlisle?" My voice rises half hopefully-half hesitantly when I remember Edward's words of yesterday regarding newly formed vampires being a 'threat' to humans. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course," he agrees instantaneously.

"Am I a threat to people?" I ask. "Is that why you ask me to stay inside while you and Edward go about as you please?"

"Oh, Esme, it is not as simple as all that," Carlisle sighs. "Imagine you are walking down the street and you pass a restaurant cooking your favorite meal. The smell would be too appetizing to resist. That is what the smell of human blood is like to a newly formed vampire. It is too appetizing to resist. In time, the urge to feed on humans will lessen, but it does take time. Until you have adjusted completely to our lifestyle, I believe it is best that you only associate with Edward and I." He watches me closely, possibly looking for any signs of regret. "Even when we travel, we will only go by night and you must stay inside the automobile unless we are certain we are alone. Perhaps I am being overly cautious, but I prefer to be overly cautious than risk the alternative. Also, I know you had your heart set on New York City, but I believe it would be best to decide on a less populous city till you have adjusted. We can still go to New York state, just perhaps a little further north. I am sorry if this seems disappointing. Will my plan make you terribly lonely, Esme?" he finishes. "I usually work long hours and Edward." Carlisle smiles unexpectedly. "Well, Edward can be contrary. He is seventeen, after all."

I take my time considering the idea. There are far worse people to spend my days with than Carlisle and Edward.

"As long as I'm with you, Carlisle, the rest of the world and everyone in it doesn't matter to me."

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me reverently. No answer is needed. His kisses tell me all I could ever wish to know.


	13. Chapter 13

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 13

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Am I genetically predisposed to come home at the most inopportune moment?"

Edward's words startle us apart. He laughs as we literally have to untangle ourselves – Carlisle's hands are twined so tightly in my hair it takes some effort to extract them as I work on redoing his shirt buttons I managed to undo.

"How was your day, Edward?" I ask casually. If my parents taught me anything growing up is is always to maintain grace under pressure.

"Not as good as yours, apparently," he teases.

"Esme and I were discussing the move to New York," Carlisle says. He is horrible at lying.

"Discussing the move?" Edward raises his tawny eyebrows. "Is that what you call it?"

"Have you ever been East, Edward?" I try to steer the conversation back to the much safer topic of moving. "I think it sounds exciting."

"I've never left the Midwest." He sits in the single chair in the living area, deciding to humor me and talk of mundane things. "How long are we going to stay in New York, Carlisle?"

"As long as we like," Carlisle says. "If we live quietly, as we have been, then there is no need to fear discovery."

"Could I go to school?" Edward asks. "I've thought I may like to try college...Maybe even medical school."

"That is an excellent idea." Carlisle seems as proud as any father would be with the suggestion. "I didn't know you were interested in medicine."

Edward shrugs. "You help people. That's interesting."

I sense he is holding something back so ask: "Is there another reason you want to go to school? Is there something you are reluctant to tell us, Edward?"

"I...I thought you might like some time alone," he confesses. "If I was, uh, reconnecting with someone after years of separation, I know I wouldn't want someone else around a great deal of the time you could be alone."

"Don't think that --" I protest and Carlisle overlaps with "We are a family."

Edward smiles, looking wistful and much older than his physical seventeen years. "It's not like you're driving me away by...by being together. I _want_ to go to college. If I'm lucky, I can find a night school. If not, I'll be careful during the day. I want to do this – for me as much as for you."

"I'll put in my notice at the hospital," Carlisle says.

"And I'll search the papers for the perfect place for us to be happy. _All_ of us, Edward," I add when he looks away as if unconvinced being a third wheel in a budding relationship will make him happy.

"I have no doubt you and Carlisle will be happy, Esme, but only time will tell for me," he answers cryptically.


	14. Chapter 14

SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 14

Six months. I remember thinking my six months freedom from Charles was the happiest of my life, but I was mistaken. _These_ six months with Carlisle and Edward have been more wonderful than mere words can ever do justice to. I found us a little cottage tucked away from everyone and everything, but still close enough to the hustle and bustle of the city for Carlisle to easily go to NYU Medical Center for work and Edward to NYU for school. The heavy canopy of trees shield us from the sun and it is secluded enough that I can spend time outdoors in the garden without worrying about anyone happening upon me. Carlisle tells anyone who cares to probe our family dynamics that we are married and decided to take in my "younger brother" Edward after our parents' death of the Spanish Influenza. Mixing fact and fiction into a seamless story to pass as 'normal' comes naturally to Carlisle after centuries of living this Vegetarian Vampiric existence. Adjusting to this "vegetarian" life of animal blood, counter balanced by the intense hunger I feel at even the slightest whiff of human blood, is challenging at best but I am learning with the Cullen's help.

"You're home early!" I call from the front porch as Carlisle comes whistling up the walk. "Why the good mood?"

"I come home to you every day. Why shouldn't I be in a good mood?" He plucks a rose off the bush twining its way up the porch lattice and hands it to me.

"Chivalry is alive and well in Carlisle Cullen," I joke.

He takes my hand and guides me over to the porch swing where we sit side-by-side. I lay my head on his shoulder. There are very few perfect moments in life, but the simplicity of this one ranks it high on 'things I will always be grateful for'. What a difference six months make. Memories of my old life and all the secrets and scars I carried from it are fading like half forgotten song lyrics.

"Coming home, I realized that I have never told you that I love you," Carlisle says.

"And do you?"

"Infinitely." I feel his lips in my hair as he kisses the top of my head. "You are a blessing, Esme, and I thank fate every day for returning such a wonder to me."

"You still haven't actually said the words, Carlisle," I remind him gently. "As much as a girl likes to be called a blessing and a wonder, she still likes to be told she's loved." I lift my head from his shoulder to search his perfect face and golden eyes for any sign of hesitation. "Granted, I haven't said the words either, but there are other ways to show someone you care deeply for them."

His eyes narrow as his quick, analytical mind cuts to the hidden concern underneath my words. "There are reasons beyond speaking a handful of words as to why we have not made love yet, Esme."

Somehow—without either of us knowing how or why--our beautiful, simple, perfect moment has turned into an argument.

"Then explain the reasons to me, Carlisle." I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "I know you're a gentleman, but there is nothing ungentlemanly about the physical side of love if both people feel the same way." I search his face again looking for something – anything – in those carefully composed features that will give away his true feelings. "You _do_ feel the same way, don't you, Carlisle?"

"Of course I do, Esme, but it is not as simple as all that!"

He frowns and I realize that, while I always thought he was just waiting for me to overcome my demons, I never suspected that he may be waging an internal war with his own.

"Then explain it to me." I kiss his cheek in the hopes of bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. "I want to understand. Please, Carlisle. Please?"

He stares down at me for several long, agonizing moments before sighing and nodding. "The first reason is simple. We are not married. Not really. No matter how many people we pretend to since moving here, that does not change the fact that, underneath, it is a lie. Perhaps it is because I was born into a different time, but I was taught that certain things should remain sacred. Marriage and all that it entails falls into that category."

"Then let's get married," I suggest. "I know you want to, Carlisle, or you wouldn't have written 'Cullen' after my name in your family bible or be calling me your wife instead of your sister in our cover story. Let's get married."

"Now?"

"Why not?" I touch the simple gold ring he gave me six months ago to make our husband, wife, and younger brother charade more believable. "We have rings. In the middle ages, if you 'pledged your troth' by saying vows and exchanging rings before God you were married. Not every town had a priest and not every couple wanted to wait for the traveling one to come by in the Spring so this is how they solved the problem. A vow is a vow, Carlisle, no matter how many or how few people witness it." I take off our rings and hold them out to him in the palm of my hand. "Marry me."

He smiles which, all things considered, is a very good sign. "You have it backwards. I believe _I'm_ the one supposed to be doing the asking while you're the one supposed to be doing the accepting."

"Then ask! Ask!" I plant a light, lingering kiss on his lips – full of unspoken promises for our unending future together..

"Esme Anne Platt, will you grant me the utmost honor and privilege of becoming my wife?"

"Of course I will, Carlisle Cullen."

"And do you love me?" he asks since neither of us have still said those all important three little words.

"'I love thee with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith,'" I quote Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

"And 'I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach,'" Carlisle quotes an earlier line from the same poem before leaning in for a kiss. "Shall we exchange rings and vows now or wait for Edward?"

Edward. He would love to be a part of all this. "Let's wait," I decide. "He would be so disappointed if we were planning a ceremony and didn't include him."

"Then we will wait."

He kisses the top of my head again – a gesture that makes me feel like my sixteen-year-old lovestruck self all over again hoping for a kiss and a kind word from the dashing Dr. Cullen instead of the twenty-six-year-old woman I have become who hopes for so much more.

"The other reason I may have...seemed...reluctant to express the depth of my feelings fully for you physically is that, despite the fact that you may think you are free of your past, the truth is you are still haunted by it," Carlisle continues his earlier explanation that I nearly forgot all about in the euphoria of knowing I am truly loved. "You are physically free of that life, but you are not emotionally free yet – not really--" he adds when I open my mouth to protest. "You still recoil at times as if you are expecting me to hit you, and--if we get anywhere near to laying beside each other on the bed--you either turn vacant like some empty shell or scream and tell 'Charles' not to touch you." Carlisle reaches for my hands and holds them tight in both of his. "You may not even realize you are doing these things, Esme, but it points toward emotional scars and I feel so helpless that the only thing I can give you to help you heal is time. You do not need physical love to heal those scars, Esme, you need time."

"I...I thought I was ready," I confess. "I...I thought if we could be close in that way, it would help me forget. I don't want to remember Charles anymore, Carlisle, I only want to remember you."

"Oh, Esme," he whispers before gathering me against him by wrapping his arms around me and tucking my head underneath his chin. "I will always be here, waiting, till the time comes when you _are_ ready. Please, do not rush things in the hopes of forgetting. It may only makes things worse."

"I'll...I'll try."

I close my eyes and breath in the scent of lavender soap and hospital disinfectant that is Carlisle Cullen. We all have scars – emotional and physical – that are in need of healing but I'm not worried. I found the greatest medicine of all. With time, love heals all wounds.

~*~

Author's Note: This seems a natural stopping point for this story. I will write some more Twilight fics, so look for "Falling Into Place" about how the Cullen's numbers grew with the addition of Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, and Jasper and "Afternoon Delight" – rated "M" because drasticbarbie requested "Esme/Carlisle 'smut.'" If you would like a single word doc copy of this story, PM or email me through my profile page.


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